


Not On My Own

by saltyfrenchfry



Category: The Dark Artifices Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare, The Wicked Powers Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Developing Relationship, Family Bonding, Family Loss, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Unconventional Families
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:00:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26440831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyfrenchfry/pseuds/saltyfrenchfry
Summary: In the aftermath of Janus' death, Ash struggles to deal with his grief. Clary is there to help him.
Relationships: Ash Morgenstern & Clary Fairchild
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Not On My Own

Ash could feel the warm blood coating his hands and arms as he held onto Thule’s Jace Herondale dying body, trying in vain to stop the copious amount of blood gushing out of the wound on his abdomen. 

Janus’s golden eyes grew clouded as the battle slowly came to a halt around them, people starting to take notice of the fallen man. Then Jace went limp in his arms, eyes closing definitely and Ash felt a wave of grief crash over him as Janus’s head lolled to the side, his blonde hair dipping in the blood that had pooled on the ground.

Ash’s mouth opened but the agonized scream that he had felt building remained stuck in his throat. His fists clenched around Janus’s gear, refusing to let him go even as the first brave Shadowhunters started to step towards them.

“Ash,” a distant voice called, barely breaking through his daze. “Ash, let go of him, darling.”

A pair of hands grabbed him on the shoulders and gently tugged him away as a group Nephilim descended on Janus’s body in a blur of black and lifted him off the ground, probably to deliver him to the Silent Brothers who would prepare him for the pyre. Ash desperately wanted to protest, yell at them to let go of him but the words refused to come and he let himself be dragged aside. He closed his eyes, his body wracked with silent sobs and a hollow feeling piercing him at the pit of his stomach. Someone stroked the tears away from his cheeks, the gesture jerking him from his trance.

His eyes snapped open and through his tear-blurred vision he met a twin pair of green eyes staring at him in concern.

“What do you want?” he asked sharply, his voice hoarse.

His aunt didn’t look bothered by the harshness of his tone, she just glanced over her shoulder, where the Shadowhunters formed a barrier between them and Janus’s body, and then back to him, rubbing his shoulders in a comforting manner.

“You should sit down, you are under shock,” she told him kindly.

Ash shook his head fervently. “No…no, I want to see him,” he made to move, to reach the place where his father figure was laying. “Let me go.”

“Ash.” Clary said quietly but firmly at the same time. “There is nothing you can do. He’s dead.”

The words seemed to pain her, as if she were talking about this world’s Jace, her Jace, not the one that had been corrupted by Sebastian’s influence for years and years. He guessed that it was natural, seeing the carbon copy of your loved one dying violently must be upsetting, never mind how different from the person you knew he was.

“We are going to the Institute,” she continued slowly, carefully asserting his reaction to her words. “There are some injured people that need to be taken care of.”

“What about me?” he asked, his eyes still fixed on the group of Shadowhunters. Some of them, those who weren’t busy gawking at Janus’s dead body in shock, were openly glaring at him with mistrust and suspicion. A couple even looked ready to tear Clary away from him.

His mother had warned him about the prejudice he was going to face. Both his father and mother had brought nothing but war and death upon the Nephilim and Downworlders, and the Cold Peace that had followed the war had done nothing to mend the strained relationship between them and Seelies.

Ash didn’t know what he had expected.

Certainly, he had not expected the glare that Clary sent their way when she spotted the reason for his suddenly tense demeanor. The men scurried away, head lowered under the venom of her gaze.

“You should come with us.” She said finally, looking at him apologetically. “There’s going to be a meeting to discuss what happened and what’s going to happen.”

Ash tensed. The idea of visiting an Institute, no matter how different from the ones he had visited in Thule, didn’t particularly excite him. If he added the fact that a bunch of strangers were going to decide about his future again, then his stomach filled with dread at the idea.

“It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice,” he said bitterly.

Clary smiled sadly at him, her hand reaching up tentatively to brush his hair from his forehead, a motherly gesture he found oddly comforting despite all. “I’m afraid not.”

The next twenty minutes and the subsequent travel to the Institute passed in a blur, Ash could not remember much of it thinking back about it. One of the things he remembered was taking notice of the many differences between this world and Thule. Having spent his childhood between his mother’s Court and the Unseelie King’s, Ash hadn’t known much about the mundane world when he had first crossed the Portal with Annabel but now that he caught even the tiniest glimpse of it, the results of Sebastian’s ruling were even more jarring and disturbing.

Once at the Institute, Clary ushered him aside discreetly and gave him a quick tour of the place, telling him to choose a room for himself while the reunion took place. Ash was tempted to argue back, if they were going to talk about him then he wanted to be present, but then he caught a glimpse of golden hair and the protest died on his lips. He wasn’t ready to see him yet.

He burst into the first available room and found some decent clothes before jumping into the shower, feeling the sudden urge to scrub his skin until all of Janus’s blood was washed away. By the time he got out, his skin had turned angry red because of the scorching water and the bruising force he had used to rub the soap over his arms and chest.

When he stepped back into the bedroom his gaze was immediately drawn to the window, eyeing the group of Shadowhunters gathered around the entrance steps of the Institute with a sense of dread forming in his stomach. The meeting was over, his destiny decided.

With heavy feet, Ash walked back to the bed, flopping down carelessly. The rational part of his mind was screaming at him to run before they could come back and tell him they decided to get rid of him. 

_Nephilim won’t show any kindness for Sebastian Morgenstern’s son._

His mother’s words rang into his mind, making him feel suddenly suffocated by the room he was in. The urge of climbing out of the window and escape this madness became almost too much to bear, but what could he do? There was nowhere for him to hide, nobody trusted that could help him.

Ash stared down at his hands, intertwined in his lap, his mind numb with shock. Utter silence surrounded him in the room but, despite that, he could still hear the noises of the battle echoing in his ears, the images of blood and death etched permanently behind his eyelids. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes tighter as his breathing became erratic and harder to control. Although he had gotten out of the showers only minutes prior, Ash could still feel the warm blood covering his hands and forearms.

A soft knock at his door brought him back to reality, a sense of dread creeping up his chest. Clary’s head peeked inside, her green eyes bright in the dim light of the room. She looked at him with concern as she slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

“The meeting is over,” she said cautiously approaching him.

“Great,” Ash said morosely. “When are they going to lock me up?”

Clary knelt in front of him so that she could look up into his face. “You will not be imprisoned. Actually, this is the reason I came to talk to you.” She reached out and put her hand over one of his. “The Clave won’t send you back to your mother. They don’t trust her and never will let her have control over someone as powerful as you. So, since you are still a minor, according to the law you are going to be under the care of your closest relative.” She hesitated giving him a small smile before clarifying, “Me.”

Ash remained in silence as her words sunk in.

“Listen, I want you to know that you are not forced to remain here if you don’t want to,” she hastily added, noticing his reticence. “You are my family, Ash, and I’d be delighted if you chose to stay. You would be safe here, I would do anything in my power to protect you from anyone or anything who would try to harm you. But if you think that you would be happier somewhere else, I’ll speak to the Consul and we’ll make a new arrangement.” Clary’s hand rose and stroked his cheek, the pressure of her touch feather-like. It was a gentle, motherly gesture. Ash could not remember such a touch in all his life.

She smiled reassuringly and left him then, and Ash was grateful for it. He needed some time alone to collect his thoughts or he was going to end up losing it.

All his life, all his life he had spent trying to reject his Shadowhunter side, hiding that part of him that made him different, that made him hated. Despite having been locked up during pretty much his whole existence, he had heard things about the Cold Peace and most importantly, he had heard the things his people said about those who reinforced it. The insults, the mockery.

His own mother, the _Queen_ , was mocked and ridiculed for consorting with a Shadowhunter. He couldn’t imagine what they would say about him, the product of said affair. Nevertheless to say, Ash had taken a strong…disliking towards his Nephilim side. Being sent to Thule and meeting his father only reinforced that feeling.

While Sebastian mostly had kept him out of the way, Janus being the only one actively looking after him, he had still made sure his son was taught how to fight with swords and daggers and knives - Ash still shuddered thinking back to his methods, even after years – and even if Janus had taken over that role relatively soon, he still felt uneasiness whenever he picked up a blade.

Then Sebastian had died and Janus and Ash had returned to this world and Ash had dared to hope that they could live peacefully at least for a while. Janus had been all Ash had for a very long time, the only family he could count on once Ash learned how different his mother was from his childish memories and yearnings. And now he was gone.

A wave of grief came over him and threatened to consume him entirely. He had never felt so alone, so lost... So incapable of doing even the smallest tasks. It reminded him of all the times he had been hurt in the past, held prisoner by the old Unseelie King and later under Sebastian’s control when he was younger and didn’t know how to defend himself. And Ash hated feeling helpless.

* * *

Despite Clary’s attempts to get him to eat something, Ash did not show up for dinner that night, nor he left his room the day after and the day after that, preferring instead to remain isolated in the safety of the bedroom. 

Yet, he knew that every time he opened the door after Clary would come and ask him to join her, he would inevitably find a tray sitting on the floor with some warm food for him.

It wasn’t until some nights later that he had caved and attempted to leave his room to wander around and study his surroundings. Mind made up, he had marched to the door and opened it - intentioned not to be deterred from his intention - taking a couple of steps into the corridor before freezing on spot.

While living in Faerie, Ash had asked for a piano to be brought to their house. His mother had obliged, but when he had shown it to Janus, he had told Ash he no longer remembered how to play.

Janus had tried, through the years, to pick up the skill again. Ash had noticed he tended to sit in front of the instrument whenever he felt particularly melancholic, and the music he produced was always a little broken, a little harsh, as if he couldn’t quite grasp the feeling the tune was meant to convey.

There was nothing broken or harsh in the melody that drifted down the Institute halls in that moment.

Ash leaned against the wall, a lump of tears in his throat and heart thudding heavily as Jace’s music reached his ears from the Music Room. He had been foolish to think he could do it.

He couldn’t.

It was all too much.

He could easily picture the scene in his mind; Jace half bent over the keyboard like he had seen Janus dozen times, slim fingers trailing over the keys with practiced ease. His heart constricted painfully, robbing him of his breath.

Before he knew it, he had all but run inside his room again, his whole weight pressed against the door as if fearing that without him there it would burst open once again and the music would catch up with him once again.

The back of his eyes were burning and the weight on his chest was more unbearable than ever. To his dismay, his vision had become so blurred he could no longer see clearly. But Ash refused to let the tears fall. He wouldn’t cry, he had promised himself he wouldn’t. He was stronger than that.

As he laid curled on the bed, on top of the blankets and still fully clothed, Ash hoped once again that when he woke up the next morning he would find out all of this situation had been just a twisted fabrication of his own imagination.

* * *

The Day of Janus’ funeral, the sun shone brilliantly and the vibrant color of the spring day was offensively bright and cheerful under its glare.

Ash hated it. It was as if they conspired to show him how the world would go on without Janus. It shouldn't. Everything should have been as grey and foggy as his emotions, the atmosphere cold and damp with silent air. But, the birds still sang and the flowers still bloomed as he stood on the shore of a smallish lake just on the outskirts of New York, silent in his grief and awaiting the start of the small ceremony that had been organized.

And it was small indeed. Him, Clary and Jace were the only ones present, the only ones who had cared enough about Janus to want to give him a proper goodbye.

Even though it wasn’t a legitimate Shadowhunter funeral - Janus hadn’t been one in a long time - Ash had still worn white for the occasion. An homage to the person he could have been if Sebastian hadn’t ruined him, he thought sparing a glance at Jace.

Ash remained completely stoic when the ashes were tossed into the lake, not letting any emotion show on his face as he clutched the small silver box that held his rests and watched the black trail arch in the air, sending out silver sparks as it fell and disappeared beneath the water.

Seeing him standing dejectedly by the water, Clary made her way down to stand by his side.

"Are you ready to return to the Institute?"

"I shan't ever be ready to return to that place, but I will return if I must," was his oblique reply.

Ash looked out at the beautiful sight that had captured his attention. The sun was high, sending a chaotic wave of color across the sky. The orange, pink, purple, and blue hues of the flowers and plants around him were breathtaking, and the beauty of it all was a welcome reminder of his house in Faerie, but he couldn't bring himself to appreciate them on such a day.

“You know,” Clary said eventually, her own gaze set towards the lake, “This place belongs to my stepfather, Luke. He and my mother used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we asked him to stay for a while every now and then, if you’d like.”

“It looks like a corner of Faerie in the middle of an unknown world,” Ash said quietly, “I did not think a place like this could exist here.”

He could feel the weight of her gaze on him as he spoke. Ash knew Clary felt sorry for him. He also knew, there was a bleakness in his heart which only she could understand and share. She too had been hated for who she was, by virtue of the very name she carried. But, Clary was a credit to their family, perhaps the only good thing to come from it, and Ash feared the same couldn’t be said about him.

"This is all my fault," he murmured, heart thrumming in his chest.

Ash felt her shift fully, turning on her side to look at him, tilting her head so that she could peer up at him. There was no blame on her face, only intense compassion. "Why would you say that?"

"Because I started all of this," he said quietly. “Janus brought me here so I could rule over this world like Sebastian did with Thule. I- I can’t help but feel that I should have stopped him or at least tried to.”

“None of Jace- Janus’ decision were your fault,”

Ash took a deep, shuddering breath. “I should have done something, I- I’m not like my father,” he said.

"No, you’re not," Clary said decisively. There was no room for argument in her tone. "You are one of the bravest people I have ever met and Janus was very lucky to have you. You are an amazing person and that has nothing to do with what you can do with your powers. There’s a lot of goodness in your heart, Ash, and the fact that you have made some mistakes doesn’t change that.”

There was a pause full of hesitation and then, "What was your father like?" Ash could tell Clary was trying to keep her voice light, but she was desperate to know.

Sebastian’s smiling face, vividly clear against the dark blur of the ravenous demons closing up on his barely armed figure, came unwelcome to his mind. “You have met him, you know what he was like.”

Her expression turned cautious. "I thought – I had imagined that he would have been at least somewhat glad to have a son. To Sebastian blood relations had great importance."

"In his own way, I suppose he did," Ash replied after a pause. "He was happy to have an heir, a son that looked just like him. But it was sort of like having a new toy. In the beginning, he was always so eager to have me around, to train me. Then he started to grow bored with me, he couldn’t stand any mistakes I made and the fact that I liked Janus more than I could tolerate him did not help at all. I think, in the end, that he blamed me for not being like him and that was all the justification he needed to be rid of me for good."

“I can’t say I expected that. I doubt that Sebastian’s decisions ever made sense to someone other than himself,” she replied quietly, her eyes lost in the distance. Her mouth twisted grimly. "People fear what they cannot understand," Clary said.

"Yes," he replied, feeling traitorous tears burn at the back of his eyes as he felt himself losing control on his emotions, "but I didn’t choose to be like this! My parents - they made me what I am, just by having me! Why do people blame me for something I had no choice over?"

Moving silently, Clary took him into her arms pulling him against her chest. Ash let her, his face buried in the curve of her neck. “Well, you are the last of the Morgensterns. Or at least, the last who carries the name. Now, the definition of what the family means and stands for is up to you. Yes, the name you carry is synonymous with blood and devastation, but Ash, you have the opportunity to decide how the next generations of this family will be seen and defined."

"I don't know if I can do that," he hoarsely admitted, “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Clary pulled back a bit and used the pads of her thumb to wipe away his tears. "Of course, it’s a massive job for yourself alone, but you are not. You have me and Jace and that’s never going to change."

Ash’s eyes were dripping with tears, the walls he had carefully constructed around himself collapsing under the sudden strength of his emotions. Salty drops fall from my chin, splattering on his arms which he kept wrapped tightly around himself. Even as Clary pressed him back against herself, his whole body trembled. Everything was raw, raw tears, raw emotions. He couldn’t control it... he couldn’t stop. Why couldn’t he stop crying?

He sobbed into her chest unceasingly, hands clutching at her jacket. She held him in silence, rocking him slowly as his tears soaked her chest. The pain came in waves, minutes of sobbing broken apart by short pauses for recovering breaths before his grief caught up with him once again.

As his sobs eventually subsided for good, Ash could vaguely register Clary murmuring soft words into his hair. He felt very tired, all of sudden, as if all the crying had drained him of any feeling and energy, leaving him to lean in Clary’s embrace for what seemed like hours.

“I want to go back to the Institute,” he said, wincing at how hoarse his voice sounded.

Clary gently pulled away from him and regarded him with barely disguised concern, her hands a feather-like pressure on his shoulders. “Are you sure? We could stay a little longer if you like it here.”

Ash shook his head, even though he felt like it weighed as much as a ton of bricks. “I just want to sleep. Please, I’m really tired.”

“Alright, let’s go get Jace and head for the car.”

The drive back was a quiet one. Ash sat in the backseat, his head resting against the window, while Clary and Jace sat in the front seats talking to each other in hushed tones. In the haze he found himself in, he couldn’t bring himself to care about what they were saying, he just wanted to reach the Institute as soon as possible and sleep until the gaping hole he felt in his chest closed off.

* * *

The days after the funeral came and passed in a blur, he hardly had the strength to do anything but staying in bed all day. 

Clary came in through and watched over him all day, and Ash found out he rather liked how his bedroom wasn’t so quiet when she was there with him. She seemed happy to fill the silence by herself, talking to him endlessly about places he never knew about, about people he never knew - mostly about his father and her parents, his _grandparents,_ \- bringing with her some tea and biscuits between one of Ash’s naps and another and making sure he ate even the last crumb

Ash found the joy in talking once more, bobbing his head along Clary’s stories, sometimes chipping in with a comment or a question. Other times he just settled against her side, his head against his shoulder and stayed very still, lulled by her calming heartbeat as her soothing voice kept him from getting lost in his own dark thoughts.

Clary barely moved, she simply rested there, on the bed next to him as his tears soaked the pillow and the sheets. Only when the day came to an end she rose, with the moon high in the sky, and every night Ash wondered when she would eventually grow tired of him and stop coming. 

But Clary came back every morning with more food and more stories for him and the weight on his chest slowly started to lift.

* * *

They were all gathered in the living room around the movie Clary wanted to watch so much. And Ash said wanted because since the thing had started playing Jace had made an impressive amount of stupid but still bafflingly funny jokes about pretty much every single line that left the actors’ mouths. 

There was a glass of soda in his hand, the ice in it long melted leaving it lukewarm, but Ash was smiling with Jace as Clary smacked him with a pillow, groaning about his awful sense of humor.

She had just settled back on the couch with a promise from Jace to reign in the jokes for the rest of the movie when one of the characters on screen did something that prompted a lightning-fast comment which startled a snort out of Ash. And it was like the sun came out for the first time in years because they were suddenly beaming at him full-force. 

A smile curled on his face, and after so long it almost felt foreign.

The movie rolled on and by the time the screen went black his muscles started to ache because he had been smiling uninterrupted the entire last 45 minutes of the movie and it felt like the layer of grief and suffering that had been enveloping him finally was chipping away.

Ash hadn't been fine in months but he thought he finally had the chance to get there, and he was not alone.


End file.
